Some Degree of Murder by Frank Zafiro, Colin Conway Page A
Authors: Frank Zafiro, Colin Conway
Ads: Link
continued walking back downtown to the Davenport.
Thursday, April 15th
2312 hrs
507 West Corbin
TOWER
The house was silent when I slipped in through the kitchen door. The kitchen was clean as usual. The smell of popcorn hung in the air.
I shed equipment as I walked slowly down the hall. The weight of the handcuffs came off my waist but did little to lighten my step. I shrugged my shoulder rig off my shoulders.
I moved into my bedroom and dumped my gear on top of my dresser. Then I poked my head into Ben’s room. He lay in his bed, sleeping, perfectly still. It always concerned me, how still he lay while he slept. Only his shallow breath moved the blankets slightly.
After the collision, I used to wonder if Ben had always slept so stilly. The only other person who might have known was my sister. She wasn’t around to answer that question.
I closed his door and started toward my own bedroom, then paused. Directly across from Ben’s room was the spare room. The door was partially open. I swung the door open slowly, wincing when it gave a small creak.
Teri lay on her back in the small twin bed. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow. The blankets came to her waist and I could see her turquoise nightgown. She was breathing deeply and I felt a tinge of shame as I watched her. Asleep, she didn’t press her lips together so tightly. They pouted like a 1940s movie star.
Teri moaned softly and rolled onto her side, facing the door. I took in the curve of her body under the blanket, beginning at her feet and following it up her legs, over her hips, to her bare shoulders and to her face. When I reached her eyes, I saw her looking back at me.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, her voice thick with sleep.
“I just got here,” I half-whispered. “I tried to be quiet. Sorry if I woke you.”
“S’alright,” she murmured. “You check on Ben?”
“Yeah. He’s sound asleep.”
“Mmmm-hmmm. Never moves when he sleeps.” She snuggled down into her pillow. “Everything okay?” she asked sleepily.
“Yeah,” I told her. “Go back to sleep.”
“Mmmm-kay.” She closed her eyes. “’Night, John.”
“Goodnight,” I said and pulled the door closed. I stood and stared at that closed door for several moments before turning and trudging toward my bedroom. I knew that sleep would evade me again.
Thursday, April 15th
Lazy J Diner, Morning
VIRGIL
A jagged headache pushed inward from the temples, making me uncomfortable and angry as I wandered along Sprague in the early morning sun. The newspaper predicted it would be abnormally warm for the day. At nine o’clock in the morning, I was already roasting in my jacket with beads of sweat rolling down my back underneath my shirt.
Sprague Avenue was pretty quiet at that time of the morning. The locals were still sleeping off their highs from the previous night and the few honest business folks in the area were tucked quietly away inside their shops. The gnawing headache convinced me that I needed something to eat and a caffeine injection.
I stopped at the Lazy J diner. An Alcoholics Anonymous meeting was finishing up when I walked in for breakfast. One of the female members collected their sign from the front entrance, flashing an embarrassed smile when she walked by me.
The smell of bacon grease and burnt coffee wafted around the room, over-powering the obligatory cigarette smoke that accompanies any recovering alcoholics meeting. I grabbed a table near the window and sat facing out at the activity on the street.
A white-haired waitress slowly ambled over to me. Her brown skirt fell below her knees, allowing the varicose veins in her thick, lower legs to show. The scuffed nurses shoes she wore looked several months past comfortable. Her orange nametag read Laverne .
“Morning,” she said with a slight southern drawl.
I nodded back at her and pulled out a pack of Camels.
“Something to drink?” she asked and laid a plastic menu on the table
Thursday, April 15th
2312 hrs
507 West Corbin
TOWER
The house was silent when I slipped in through the kitchen door. The kitchen was clean as usual. The smell of popcorn hung in the air.
I shed equipment as I walked slowly down the hall. The weight of the handcuffs came off my waist but did little to lighten my step. I shrugged my shoulder rig off my shoulders.
I moved into my bedroom and dumped my gear on top of my dresser. Then I poked my head into Ben’s room. He lay in his bed, sleeping, perfectly still. It always concerned me, how still he lay while he slept. Only his shallow breath moved the blankets slightly.
After the collision, I used to wonder if Ben had always slept so stilly. The only other person who might have known was my sister. She wasn’t around to answer that question.
I closed his door and started toward my own bedroom, then paused. Directly across from Ben’s room was the spare room. The door was partially open. I swung the door open slowly, wincing when it gave a small creak.
Teri lay on her back in the small twin bed. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow. The blankets came to her waist and I could see her turquoise nightgown. She was breathing deeply and I felt a tinge of shame as I watched her. Asleep, she didn’t press her lips together so tightly. They pouted like a 1940s movie star.
Teri moaned softly and rolled onto her side, facing the door. I took in the curve of her body under the blanket, beginning at her feet and following it up her legs, over her hips, to her bare shoulders and to her face. When I reached her eyes, I saw her looking back at me.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, her voice thick with sleep.
“I just got here,” I half-whispered. “I tried to be quiet. Sorry if I woke you.”
“S’alright,” she murmured. “You check on Ben?”
“Yeah. He’s sound asleep.”
“Mmmm-hmmm. Never moves when he sleeps.” She snuggled down into her pillow. “Everything okay?” she asked sleepily.
“Yeah,” I told her. “Go back to sleep.”
“Mmmm-kay.” She closed her eyes. “’Night, John.”
“Goodnight,” I said and pulled the door closed. I stood and stared at that closed door for several moments before turning and trudging toward my bedroom. I knew that sleep would evade me again.
Thursday, April 15th
Lazy J Diner, Morning
VIRGIL
A jagged headache pushed inward from the temples, making me uncomfortable and angry as I wandered along Sprague in the early morning sun. The newspaper predicted it would be abnormally warm for the day. At nine o’clock in the morning, I was already roasting in my jacket with beads of sweat rolling down my back underneath my shirt.
Sprague Avenue was pretty quiet at that time of the morning. The locals were still sleeping off their highs from the previous night and the few honest business folks in the area were tucked quietly away inside their shops. The gnawing headache convinced me that I needed something to eat and a caffeine injection.
I stopped at the Lazy J diner. An Alcoholics Anonymous meeting was finishing up when I walked in for breakfast. One of the female members collected their sign from the front entrance, flashing an embarrassed smile when she walked by me.
The smell of bacon grease and burnt coffee wafted around the room, over-powering the obligatory cigarette smoke that accompanies any recovering alcoholics meeting. I grabbed a table near the window and sat facing out at the activity on the street.
A white-haired waitress slowly ambled over to me. Her brown skirt fell below her knees, allowing the varicose veins in her thick, lower legs to show. The scuffed nurses shoes she wore looked several months past comfortable. Her orange nametag read Laverne .
“Morning,” she said with a slight southern drawl.
I nodded back at her and pulled out a pack of Camels.
“Something to drink?” she asked and laid a plastic menu on the table
Similar Books
